The Rolls-Royce sat in the driveway of Erin's house, gleaming dangerously in the darkness. Ross cut the engine of his bike, guided it to a rolling stop beside the luxurious British car. The house was dark before him, tall and imposing despite its small size. Ross glanced up at the shuttered windows, heaved a sigh. Passing a hand over his face, he shook his head, approached the front door. He removed a key from his pocket, one he had had made once he had swiped Erin's spare house key. The door gave way, the lock tumblers easing away with no problems. The entry hallway was dark, illuminated only by a faint, glowing light. Ross let the door fall shut quietly behind him, circled through the house. The small light over the kitchen sink was the only light on in the house, so far as Ross could tell from the ground floor. Worry gripped the older man's chest. Pulling out the handgun tucked beneath his belt in the small of his back, he ascended the stairs hesitantly, peering up at the upper landing for signs of intruders. He found none, even as he searched room after room on the upper floor.

He stood in front of Erin's bedroom, eyes locked on the double doors. Repositioning his grip on the gun, Ross nudged the door open with his foot, pointed his gun into the gloom. No one attacked him, no one shouted, no one shot him. Soft candlelight flickered from the adjoining bathroom. Ross lowered the gun, stepped into the room, shut the door with a nearly inaudible click behind him. Stifled by the darkness, the Expendable hurried to the bathroom, glanced around the doorframe. A few candles illuminated the gloom, shed light onto the porcelain sink and bathtub. Erin sat in the tub, submerged to her collarbone in water. Ross sighed with relief, slid his handgun back beneath his belt. He strode into the bathroom silently, found a small stool in the corner. Dragging it to a stop a foot from the base of the tub, he sat down, faced Erin.

The shadows played on the woman's face, dancing playfully and maliciously as the candles wavered and shivered. Erin's eyes, dark as they were in normal light, seemed to be nothing but pools of obsidian black, a darkness that could not be vanquished. The angles of her face were sharpened by the shadows, giving her a dangerous, harpy-like appearance. She turned her head, met Ross's gaze. He saw anger and pain flash in her eyes, read the lines of frustration and weariness on her face. Erin looked away, however, and settled back into her languid position in the tub. The water was clear, and Ross was sorely tempted. He glanced down, glimpsed Erin's naked body, looked away as a hot flush crept up the back of his neck and into his face. If not for the candlelight, Erin would have seen his reaction. Eyes focused on the far wall, Erin gave a slow sigh, shoulders slumping with the action.

"There's a book on the counter," she stated, voice low, quiet. "A page is bookmarked. Read the highlighted to me."

Ross picked up the book. "The Day of the Jackal," he murmured, glancing at the title. He flipped open the designated page, frowned at the highlighted text. "The day of the Jackal was over."

"Read the back cover."

Ross turned the book over in his hands. "The Jackal. A tall, blond Englishman with opaque, gray eyes. A killer at the top of his profession. A man unknown to any secret service in the world. An assassin with a contract to kill the world's most heavily guarded man. One man with a rifle who can change the course of history. One man whose mission is so secretive not even his employers know his name. And as the minutes count down to the final act of execution, it seems that there is no power on earth that can stop the Jackal."

"It's my favorite book," Erin said once Ross had finished. "I always found the Jackal to be alluring and sexy, even when I was fourteen. There was just something…about him that I loved, and I didn't know what. I still don't know what. But, when I was a young girl, I imagined myself becoming the Jackal. You know, the perfect killer, one whose true name was never known by anybody. I didn't think I'd become a mercenary. It was all Leroy's fault." Erin smirked, created a harsh twist of the mouth that was only accentuated by the darting shadows. "He saw me throwing knives one day. It was a hobby of mine – something I wanted to make different about the Jackal, I guess. Leroy must've thought that, too. He came over and started talking to me, started saying all this shit about what my talent could be used for. Next thing I knew, I was in an old storage unit meeting a group of men who didn't think much of me, aside that I was a pretty good looking chick."

Erin shifted in the tub, rested her heel on the edge of the porcelain, drawing Ross's gaze to the curve of her flesh inadvertently. "They all said no to Leroy. They told him, 'She's no good for the team. She'll only get herself killed. We'll end up in the biggest pile of shit ever.' But Leroy was firm. He said to them, 'Let's just try her out, okay? It's worth a shot.' And they were all pissed off about it. 'A woman doesn't belong in a merc team,' Phil would say. Then again, he had a little girl, so he wasn't much for having a young woman going into the bloody business he was in. But, um…" Erin swallowed thickly, rolled her shoulders. "I proved him wrong. I proved them all wrong, except for Leroy, of course. He knew I had it in me the whole time, right from the moment he saw me throw that knife. I don't know if I should love him or hate him for pulling me into this business." Erin shook her head. "He gave me a chance that nobody else would…just like you."

Erin fixed Ross with an unreadable gaze. "Later, he realized that he just wanted me around, you know. As the years wore on, he realized that he loved me, and he tried to get me out of the business. Didn't work, though. I was stubborn, and he was stubborn, and it just made for an ongoing argument that eventually became more of a play-fight than anything else. The other boys sure as hell got a kick out of us." Erin shook her head again, sighed. "Anyway, the point is, most of those guys in the beginning hated my guts, just 'cause I was a woman and I was showing them up, really. Most of them realized it was because they thought I was hot, and they knew they couldn't get their hands on me, so they were jealous and frustrated and full of testosterone. Phantom…he was the one who was against me the whole time until I saved his ass. From then on, we were practically inseparable, mostly 'cause he knew I'd save his ass again should he get into trouble. Christmas reminds me of Phantom so much, but his anger towards me…it's so deep-seated that it's pissing me off."

"Lee gets a little emotional," Ross stated, voice hushed to match Erin's volume.

"I'll say." Erin let her leg slide back into the tub. She stretched her arms high above her head, body rippling with the action. "It's been hard hiding. I mean, it's been hard staying underneath the radar and keeping myself from trying to kill the bastard who hired my team for the Iraq assignment. There are only a few people who know I'm alive, but I guess there'll be more, now that that old contact of mine is running around like crazy, telling everybody who knew me that I'm not dead. The little fucker." The woman exhaled heavily, clicked her tongue. "Doesn't matter anymore, I guess." She faced Ross, gaze unwavering. "Why are you here? I'm not part of the team anymore. You don't need to keep watching me."

"I don't want you to leave."

The silence stretched, aside from the occasional slop of water as Erin shifted in the tub. She glanced away, and Ross found his eyes lingering on her bare body, tracing the curve of her naked breast, the slope of her toned stomach. He swallowed thickly, forced his gaze back up to Erin's face.

"Why?" she finally asked.

Ross glanced down at his left hand, noted the scars that laced the flesh from a nasty, old wound. "You're good for the team, no matter what Christmas thinks. For all I care, he can go fuck himself."

"I think he does enough of that already," Erin muttered, rolled her eyes.

"And, um…" Ross let his gaze fall to the floor. "I…just don't want you to go. I want to protect you."

"I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for years now."

"But now people know you're alive," Ross pointed out. He sighed, partly in frustration, partly in weariness. He was quiet for a moment. "Tool would miss you."

Erin chuckled. "I bet. He's quite a guy. He kinda reminds me of Rover. Rover was always flirting with me – and all the girls he ran across, really. And he had a talent for painting. He and Tool would've gotten along just fine. 'Soul brothers.' That sounds like Tool and Rover."

"Things have been different since you showed up," Ross continued, the words coming out in a mumble. "We'd all miss you, even Christmas."

"Yeah." Erin rolled her eyes. "He sure missed me after he fucked me."

Ross tensed in his chair. "What?"

Erin shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Ross. What's done is done."

The woman pulled the plug out of the tub and stood up, water cascading down her body. Ross couldn't tear his gaze away. Erin stepped out of the bathtub, stepped around Ross, reached for a towel. The shadows, contrasting with the sharpness of her face, made the woman's body glow with a golden warmth. Ross got to his feet slowly, watched with a dry mouth as Erin wrapped herself in the body towel and run her fingers through her hair. She turned to the Expendable, head titled to one side, eyes flickering.

"I'd miss you guys, too," Erin said. "It's hard losing one team. I really don't want to lose another."

Without another word, she went into her bedroom, toweling herself dry as Ross followed a good distance behind. She slipped into a thin nightie and underwear, letting her wet hair drip all over the carpeted floor. She squeezed all the water out of her locks onto her towel, ran her hand through her hair in an effort to comb it. Ross merely stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching her wordlessly.

"Can you blow out the candles?" she asked, gestured to the flickering candlelight. "I don't want the house to catch on fire."

Ross obliged as Erin pulled back the top sheet of her bed. The two were plunged into darkness. After a moment, Ross's eyes adjusted to the gloom. He approached the comfy chair, only to feel Erin's hand clasp his. He turned to look at her. Her face was expressionless but soft, almost reassuring. Her hand was cool in his, felt comfortable in his grasp. Again, without a word, Erin led the Expendable to the bed, pulled him onto it with hardly any resistance. As she snuggled up beside him, however, Ross began to protest.

"Erin," he began, "this isn't – "

"Shh." Erin rolled around to face him. The woman wriggled closer, gently pressed her lips against Ross's. They were soft on his, not at all the kiss one would expect from a mercenary.

On instinct, the Expendable reacted to the kiss, pushed open Erin's mouth with his tongue. A shiver darted down his spine as Erin let her tongue slide against his and flick across his lips. After a moment, Erin pulled away, pushed her head up underneath Ross's chin. Ross responded sluggishly, still surprised by the kiss.

"Just hold me," Erin whispered. "I want to be held."

Ross's arms enveloped Erin into a comforting embrace. She relaxed against him and fell into sleep.

Ross stayed awake most the night, fighting over the feelings in his chest.